


Tend to the Flame

by rocksalts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, M/M, car symbolism...?, takes place whenever you want it to but probably post-15x18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29620149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocksalts/pseuds/rocksalts
Summary: Dean knows they left things off pretty rough...they probably shouldn't have gone on a case so soon afterwards.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 59





	Tend to the Flame

**Author's Note:**

> destiel december 2020 prompt: fireplace | wc: ~620

So maybe it wasn’t exactly the crackle of a fireplace.

Dean looks down into the grave, feeling the heat lick his chin and cheeks warm. Across from him, on the other side, stands Cas with his hands in his pockets.

You knew it was a cold December when even the angel shivered.

Dean lifts his eyes and their gazes meet over the flames.

“It’s quiet,” Cas says, breaking eye contact first. The fire—quickly fading into the recesses of the grave—is the only source of light. It colors Cas a warm yellow-orange that Dean thinks is strangely inviting. If Cas was a fire, then Dean would gladly be a furnace.

“Yeah, well. What’d you expect? We killed the things that were making a ruckus around here. Quiet’s all that’s left after that.”

He knows that’s not what Cas means. He knows…

“Right,” Cas mumbles, “A ruckus. That’s all it was to you.”

They weren’t talking about the ghosts anymore.

Dean shifts his weight, feeling the keys in his pocket. Before he can think on it too much, he tosses them over the fire to Cas.

“Why don’t you drive?”

He leaves Cas to stare after him, fighting a chill on the way to the impala. It’s weird opening the passenger’s side door, but he settles in in time to see Cas beginning to head over. After a few seconds, Dean’s breath fogs up the glass. He wipes a sleeve over it to clear it, revealing Cas once more—closer, this time.

There’s another rush of cold air when Cas opens the door to get in, but he shuts it firmly before a shiver can get a hold of Dean’s spine again. Baby roars to life, the familiar rattle that comes with the wave of heat from her vents does a good job of filling the silence.

“This…’quiet,’” Cas starts. He’s looking down at his knees, frowning. “That’s—is that what you want?”

Dean lets his eyes close for a moment.

“No,” he breathes. It wasn’t. He’d never wanted that.

“Then,” Cas looks over at him, “speak plainly. What—what do you expect of me? Of…of _this_? Do you want to,” He pauses, his frown deepening. “To go back—?”

“No,” Dean says again. He meets Cas’ eyes. “ _No_ , Cas, I don’t want us to go back to how things were. Thinking about that, I can’t—I just…”

He rubs a hand over his face. “I can’t.”

There’s a moment of silence, of just the rattling in the vents.

“Why did you give me the keys?”

Dean’s eyebrows furrow together, and he removes his fingers from where they were pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Uh…come again?”

“To your car,” Cas clarifies. “Why are you letting me drive your car? You never let anyone do that.”

Dean has to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“Jesus, Cas. By now you have to know you aren’t just ‘anyone.’ You’re—” He swallows. They stare at each other, and Dean falters.

“Say it,” Cas whispers. Dean isn’t sure when it happened, but Cas was closer, now, and Dean was no longer pressed against the door.

“Special. You’re everything, Cas,” he whispers back, heart in his throat. “You mean everything to me.”

Cas leans forward, then, a hand on Dean’s shoulder while the other moves to cup his jaw. He presses their lips together softly, gently, in the type of care that Dean only remembers receiving on his way out of hell. The way a soul mends, slowly and deliberately—that’s the way Cas kisses him now.

Dean brings his hands forward to clasp the collar of Cas’ trench coat in his fists. And he doesn’t need a fireplace, he muses. He’s got a hold of the flame.


End file.
